


Opening Their Eyes

by princessj89



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Everyone is stupid (except for Mrs. Hudson), First Meetings, M/M, Sherlock and John already know each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 12:53:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7685383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessj89/pseuds/princessj89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone thought they knew who Sherlock Holmes was. But when they meet a certain John Watson, they realize that they don't know him as well as they thought.</p>
<p>I'm horrible at summaries, I tried though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic so I hope you enjoy! I want to start writing more fiction so any positive feedback would be great!!!

Sherlock is a closed off, arrogant, psychopath (or sociopath, depending on who you’re talking to), incapable of feeling, expressing, and seeing other’s emotions. At least that’s what most people thought. And in their defense, they seemed to have a lot of evidence. No had ever seen Sherlock with anyone, of either gender (and there was a pool at the Yard as to which one he preferred). It seemed like he could only hold conversations if he was insulting the other person. If anyone ever tried to get close to him, they were immediately shoved away and (in some cases) reduced to tears. In fact, the only people that seemed to care about Sherlock despite him being… Sherlock was Mrs. Hudson, his landlady, Lestrade, his employer, and Molly Hooper, the pathologist. And even they didn't know much about him. There was the mysterious brother, but no one had ever seen him, so they didn't count him. Beside, if the brothers were anything alike, they didn't think there was much hope there.   
So when they met a man that seemed to disprove all of this, it took a moment to realize that there was something special about the both of them.

Lestrade had pulled out his phone the moment he had walked onto the crime scene. In his seven years of being a detective he had never seen anything like this. They were in a small abandoned house, and every single room was covered in blood. It looked like it had been thrown, smeared and painted across every surface. But there was not a single body. When Sherlock had arrived, he walked right past Lestrade and Sally,took one look and broken out in a huge grin.   
“Excellent.” He said before pulling out the his magnifying glass and walking away.   
Sally sneered in disgust. “Why did you call him?” She said, turning to Lestrade. “We don’t need him.”  
Lestrade scoffed. “So you have something?” When Sally didn't say anything, He smiled. “That’s why I called him.”  
“Oh, come on! We should not allow someone who is barely human and gets off on blood and guts to come to a crime scene! He doesn't care about the victims or families. Hell, I don't think he could care about someone else if he wanted to!”  
“Alright Sally, enough.” Lestrade said. “You know that a number of our cases would still be unsolved if it weren't for Sherlock.”  
“137, to be exact.” Sherlock said as he strode back over to them. Ignoring Sally’s eyeroll, he immediately started to tell them everything he had found, starting from the number of people killed (6), to the profession of the killer (artist). Just as he was starting to get into the specifics, his phone rang. Sherlock frowned, then muttered “bloody Mycroft” as he quickly answered his phone.   
“This better be important.” Sherlock said sharply. Lestrade was about to turn to Sally when suddenly Sherlock went pale (well, paler than he already was) and a look of fear crossed his face. “When?” Lestrade thought that he saw Sherlock’s hand shake ever so slightly. “Is” Sherlock quickly cleared his throat. “Is he…” After a moment, all the tension drained of Sherlock’s body to be replaced with tired relief. “Oh, thank god.” Another pause. “No, Mycroft, it’s a common expression one uses to express relief.”  
By now, Lestrade and Sally were staring at Sherlock like he had grown another head.   
“Where is he?” Sherlock said into the phone. Then Lestrade had to resist the urge to back away as a cold fury filled Sherlock’s eyes. “Why the hell didn't you call me earlier?” He said in a fierce whisper. A pause. “That is not your call to make!” He yelled, causing Sally and Lestrade to jump. “Tell him I’m coming. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” Sherlock then hung up the phone, and quickly turned to Lestrade. “Go to the Camberwell College of Arts, the murderer is a fourth year whose thesis is on the color red. Also, I am going to be busy for the next month, so please refrain from calling me.”  
Lestrade mouth was hanging open, and he seemed unable to speak. Sally, on the other hand, had no such problem.   
“What the hell? You come here practically skipping and now you’re taking a month off? You’re not even paid to do this! And who is ‘him’? Hey, freak, I’m talking…” But Sherlock had already walked away.  
Sally spun on Lestrade. “What the hell was that? And who is ‘him’!”  
Lestrade was still staring dumbly in the direction Sherlock had gone. “I have no idea.”


	2. Lestrade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade goes to find Sherlock, but he finds something (or someone) else in the process.

Greg Lestrade didn't see Sherlock for three weeks. It was like he had disappeared. The day after they had been at the crime scene, Lestrade had gone by 221B to make sure Sherlock was okay, but he hadn't been there. And he wasn't there the next day, either. Lestrade then tried calling every few days, but had only gotten through on the tenth try. And all Sherlock had said was “Stop calling, Lestrade. Bothering me isn't going to stop your wife from cheating” before he hung up. Although, he thought he heard someone laugh in the background before the call ended. But he just chalked that up to his imagination. After that, Lestrade decided to respect Sherlock wishes, and didn't contact him. But on the third week, three people were found in their houses dead, with no sign of forced entry, and all their faces had been fixed in a permanent scream. He had tried to solve it without Sherlock, but by the third victim, he was desperate. He called Sherlock first, but he hadn't answered, so he decided to just go over and see him.   
When he got to 221B, he was surprised to find it completely quiet. Huh, usually I can hear explosions or the violin Lestrade thought as he knocked on the door. He heard the shower running, and considered leaving, but the shower was still on when he heard rushed footsteps coming towards the door, and then it opened to reveal a half wet Sherlock. What the hell? Lestrade opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Sherlock’s glare.  
“What the do you want?” Sherlock asked, shifting back in forth impatiently.   
“Uh, three people were killed…”  
“No.” Sherlock said curtly before trying to close the door, but Lestrade stuck his foot out and pushed his way in.   
“First of all, ow.” Lestrade said, shaking his foot. “Second of all, I haven't seen you in three weeks! Now can you please tell me what the hell you’ve been doing in…” Lestrade stopped talking, because the look Sherlock was giving seemed to be burning a hole through him. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Then Sherlock spoke through gritted teeth. “I told you to not contact me for a month. It has only been three weeks. Now I know that I’m more intelligent than most, but I had assumed that you knew how to read a calend-”   
Lestrade held up his hand. “Hold on.” He listened to the silence for a second before turning back to Sherlock. “There’s someone here, isn't there?” Sherlock’s face remained neutral, but Lestrade saw something flash in his eyes, so he knew he was right. “Hey, I may not be a genius, but I’m still a bloody detective.” He pointed to the bathroom. “Showers don't turn off by themselves.”  
Sherlock scoffed. “My faith in Scotland Yard has been restored.” He said, while gesturing towards the door.   
But now Lestrade was curious. He had never seen anyone else in the apartment other than Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. “So who is it?”  
Sherlock frowned. “None of your business.” He said, then went and opened the door. “Goodbye.”  
“Now wait a second.” Lestrade said. “Why won't you tel-”   
Suddenly, a yelp followed by a loud crash came from the bathroom. Lestrade turned to Sherlock to ask him about it, but he was gone. Confused, he look back towards the bathroom to see Sherlock already rushing in. He started to go after him, but decided that was not the best idea. He thought of leaving, but curiosity won that argument, so he just stood and listened.  
“Are you okay?” He heard Sherlock say. Lestrade could hear the concern in his voice.   
“Yeah. I don't think I tore a stitch, so that’s good. Can you get my towel?” A male voice said.   
“Why? I’ve already seen you naked.” Lestrade’s mouth dropped.  
Oh my god, Sherlock has a man he’s seen naked in his shower. Lestrade had always had suspicions about Sherlock’s sexuality, and there was that pool going at the Yard, but this… Lestrade had never expected this.  
“Sherlock! Whoever’s in the living room can hear you!” The man yelled.  
“John, your anonymity was ruined the moment you fell. I think he’s capable of deducing how the man in my shower relates to me.”  
“Fine, but I still need to leave this room and I rather not do it in my birthday suit.” The man, John, said.   
A few minutes later, Sherlock led a towel clad man out of the bathroom. Lestrade couldn't help but stare. John was short, with short blond hair (which at the moment was soaking wet), and had stitches running along a wound in his shoulder.   
Sherlock noticed Lestrade staring and smirked. “John, the man staring at you is Detective Inspector Lestrade. Lestrade, this is John.”   
John was looking at the ground, face slowly turning bright red, so Lestrade stuck out his hand. “It’s really nice to meet you.”  
John looked up at Lestrade, smiled and stuck out his hand, bumping into Lestrade’s before grasping it. “Same here, although I wish I were wearing a few more layers.”  
Lestrade smiled as they shook. “It’s fine, I’ve seen Sherlock in less.”  
John laughed as Sherlock frowned. “My clothes were covered in acid! I had to take them off.”   
John looked puzzled.. “Why did you have… Never mind, I don't want to know.” John started to rub his eyes, but Sherlock swatted his hand away. After frowning at Sherlock, John cleared his throat. “Uh, while this has been great, I would love to…” He gestured down to the towel.  
Sherlock smiled at John. It was one of the rare times that Lestrade had seen Sherlock genuinely smile. “Of course.” Then he turned to Lestrade. “I will be calling you in a week. If you really need my help, you can send me the file and I will take a look at it. Goodbye.” Then Sherlock wrapped his arm around John and led him into the bedroom.  
Lestrade stared at the bedroom, stunned, then turned and left. It was only when he was about to start the car that he realized what was different about John. After thinking about what that meant, he smiled, and started the car. Sally is going to flip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like the story so far! It's actually already finished, but I'm going to try to post a chapter everyday.  
> See ya later!


	3. Mrs. Hudson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now it's time for my favorite character to appear - Mrs. Hudson!!!!

Coming back from her sister’s, Martha Hudson heard people talking upstairs. Oh, I should make some snacks for Sherlock’s company.  
Putting her suitcases down, she quickly went to work, making some tea and biscuits. But just as she was taking the biscuits out of the oven, she heard someone come down the stairs and out the door. Oh, well, Sherlock probably hasn't eaten in awhile. He is still too skinny! So she put everything on a tray and went upstairs.  
“Yo ho! Sherlock! I made you something!” She said as she walked in. He wasn't in the living room, so she put the tray on the only clear spot in the kitchen. He really needs to clean this place up. Noticing that the sink was filled with dishes, she couldn't help but start to wash them.  
She was halfway through when she heard Sherlock come into the living. “There you are, I made yo-” She stopped when she noticed that he wasn't alone. Holding Sherlock’s hand was a small man in a jumper. He seemed to be looking at her, and looked a little bit nervous. “Oh, hello there.”  
“Mrs. Hudson, this is John. He will be staying with us.”  
Mrs. Hudson smiled. “Hello.”  
“Hi.” John said. “So, you’re the landlady?”  
“Yes I am, but Sherlock seemed to think I’m his housekeeper.” Mrs. Hudson laughed. “Although I don't mind doing some chores. I almost done with the dishes.”  
“Oh, do you need help?” John asked, seeming to ignore Sherlock’s look of surprise.  
“That would be wonderful!” She said.  
Mrs. Hudson noticed John squeeze Sherlock’s hand before slowly making his way to the sink, keeping his hand trailing on the chairs and table until he got there. He groped for the towel, and then started to carefully lift the washed dishes and dry them.  
At first they worked in comfortable silence, but after a few minutes, Mrs. Hudson’s curiosity got the best of her. “So, how did you two meet?”  
John smiled. “I was on leave from the army, and was in a cab to my sister’s when Sherlock ‘commandeered’ it. His words, not mine. Anyway, he said that it was a matter of national security that the cabbie take him to the other side of London. Obviously, I was not happy with this, and we started to fight. But by the time we got to Sherlock’s destination, which was an abandoned warehouse, I was completely smitten with him. It took him a whole week to see that he felt the same. I still hold that over him.”  
Mrs. Hudson was surprised. “So you two are…”  
John laughed. “Yeah, we’ve been ‘together’ for over a year, I guess. I was only in London for two weeks before I had to go back to Afghanistan, so we wrote letters and Skyped each other. But about a month ago, my unit was hit, and I was injured, so I was discharged. When Sherlock found out, he said I could live with him. If that’s alright with you.”  
“Of course I’m alright with it! Actually, Mrs. Turner, who lives two doors down, has two boys who are married. I can introduce you if you want.”  
“That would be great. I doubt Sherlock would go with me, though.”  
“That sounds boring.” Sherlock yelled from the living room.  
“Everything is boring to you.” John said with a smile.  
“That’s not true. I find crime scenes and you interesting.” Sherlock said, coming into the kitchen and grabbing a cup of tea.  
“Wow, I’m honored.” John said with fake enthusiasm.  
“Well, you are less idiotic than most people.” Sherlock said as he took the plate in John’s hand and put it away.  
Mrs. Hudson couldn't stop smiling at the two of them. Finishing the last dish, she turned and looked at the both of them. “I’m so happy for you two!” She exclaimed, hugging John. She felt him startle, but after a second he relaxed and hugged her back. Letting go of John, Mrs. Hudson turned to Sherlock and hugged him as well.  
“Well, I need to unpack, so I’ll leave you two alone.” Mrs. Hudson said when she finished hugging Sherlock.  
“It was nice to meeting you.” John said. He smiled, then reached out a hand out and grabbed Sherlock’s arm.  
“You two are too cute!” Mrs. Hudson said, clapping her hands together. “Alright, I’m leaving.” She said, seeing Sherlock’s scowl.  
When she got back to her apartment, she could not stop thinking about John. Then she really thought about John. And she realized that she hadn't noticed something big about him. But when she thought about it, she realized that it made her love John, and Sherlock, even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the fact that anyone is reading this is amazing!!  
> So I'll see you guys later with a new chapter.  
> P.S. - has anyone figured out what's up yet?


	4. Molly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Molly's turn!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... I actual have no excuses on why I haven't posted this in a while. Sorry? (ducks incoming tomato). Alright! I promise to post the next chapter in a couple of days.

Everyone knew that Molly Hooper had a crush on Sherlock. And even though she realized that Sherlock would never feel the same, she took comfort in the fact that he wasn't with anyone. It let her imagine that one day Sherlock would figure out that he was in love with her, and he would sweep her off her feet, and they would go off into the sunset together…  
Shaking her head, Molly looked down at the blood sample on the table. _Goodness, I have got to stop daydreaming about Sherlock_. She went back to work with a sigh. A few minutes later her phone light up, and when she picked it up she saw that she had a text from Sherlock.  
Need a few samples for an experiment. Will be there in 2 minutes. SH  
_Huh, he usually doesn't warn me._ Still, Molly couldn't help but smile. Abandoning the microscope, she immediately went into her purse and dug out her lipstick. She put some on, making sure to check herself in the table reflection. Fluffing her hair, she straightened her lab coat and tried to appear as though she was really busy, when in reality she had been staring at the same slide for 20 minutes. A few moments later, she heard the door open. She glanced up, wanting to seem casual, but did a double take when she saw that he wasn't alone. With him was a short blond man wearing a fluffy jumper and dark sunglasses. “Oh, hi.” She was about to go back to work when she noticed that their arms were linked together. She tried to keep the look of surprise off her face, but knew that she failed. Sherlock and his friend didn't seem to notice, though, as Sherlock led the man to a chair and help him sit.  
“I’ll be right back, okay?” Sherlock said to the man. After the man nodded, Sherlock glanced over as he started to leave. “Oh, hello Molly. I need some different hair samples.”  
“Uh, um, you, uh, there are some bodies in the next room.” Molly stuttered, turning bright red. She noticed the man was trying not to smile, which just made her blush even more. When she looked back at Sherlock, he was staring at her intently.  
“I see you’re trying the lipstick again.” Sherlock said.  
“Oh, yeah.” Molly said, covering her mouth.  
Then Sherlock turned and walked out the room, leaving Molly alone with the mystery man. He seemed to be staring at his hands, and Molly didn’t know what to do.  
“So you’re friends with Sherlock. Haven't met many of those.” The man said while he fiddled with his fingers.  
“Yeah, that’s because he doesn't have many.” Molly said with a smile. “I’m Molly.”  
The man smiled back. “John.”  
Molly started to work again, but in the end she couldn't resist. “So, uh, you’re a friend of Sherlock’s as well?”  
John started to turn red. “We’re a little more than friends.”  
Now Molly knew that her mouth was open. She closed it, and John seemed to be nice enough not to notice.  
“You guys are a couple?” She said, still a little hopeful that he meant best friends.  
“Yeah. Technically, we’ve been dating for a year.”  
“A year?” She squeaked. She could feel tears start to form. _Why am I crying? He doesn't even know I like him_. Wiping them away, she cleared her throat before trying again. “I mean a year. Wow, I didn't know he was dating someone.”  
John smiled. “Well I was in Afghanistan until a month ago, so we mostly wrote letters to each other, with a few calls and video chats here and there.”  
“That’s great.” Silence. “Um, I don't want to be too invasive, but… isSherlockagoodboyfriend?” Molly said in a rush. She didn't think that she could be more red if she painted her face.  
John laughed. “He is. Don't get me wrong, he’s still a royal ass, and sometimes he forgets that I exist if he becomes engrossed in something, but when it comes down to it I know he cares about me a lot, and I don’t know what I’d do without him.” John said with a smile.  
Now Molly felt tears run down her face. “I’m sorry.” She said, grabbing a tissue.  
John cocked his head. “For what? I promise he’s not that bad.” He said, looking amused.  
Now Molly was utterly confused. Then she looked at John and thought about everything she had seen, and suddenly she realized that she had missed something obvious.  
“Oh my god, you’re…”  
She could see the realization dawn on his face, and it looked like he was about to say something, but at that moment Sherlock came back into the room with bags full of hair. “Okay, John, we can go home now.” He walked over to John and grabbed his hand.  
“I’m so sorry, John. I didn't even notice.” Molly said, realizing that she in fact could be more red.  
“You don't have to apologize, Molly. It seems as though most people don't notice.” John said.  
“Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade didn't realize until after they had left.” Sherlock said as they started to leave. “So I applaud you for figuring it out faster than them.”  
“Thank you, I guess.” She said, not sure if that was a compliment.  
“It was lovely talking to you, Molly.” John said with a smile.  
“Uh, nice talking to you too.” Molly said. She wanted to say something else, but by the time she thought of anything, Sherlock and John were gone.  
Sighing, Molly turned and looked down at the microscope and let her tears run unchecked for a minute. Then she cleaned her face, which included taking off the lipstick, and threw back her shoulders. After that, she took out her computer and looked up cats, because although she was happy for Sherlock and John, she still needed some cheering up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again! I love you guys though, you are the wind beneath my wings! :)


End file.
